I didn't waste another second. Even in this state, I could feel the faint tug through the system, a thin thread pointing me toward Beelzebub's direction. West. The connection was weak, but it was enough. I had to go that way, no matter what waited in between.

A few guards tried shooting me down as I crossed over the outer battlements. Pathetic attempts, honestly. Even exhausted and half-dead, dodging them was still easier than dealing with Silver. Well… aside from the one arrow now lodged in my foot. That one hurt like hell. But we can ignore it for now, hehe…

Blood dripped down my heel, warm and annoyingly steady, but the wound began to close the longer I flew. My body was running on fumes, yet it refused to give up. Each beat of my wings carried me over another tower, another stretch of stone that wanted me dead. Golden light kept firing from every direction, painting the mountains and walls in a holy glow that made my eyes sting.

I was still far from fully escaping, still within reach of their magic and their killing intent. But none of it mattered. My wings kept moving. My heart kept pushing me forward.

Nothing was going to stop me now.

The wide plains stretched out the moment I crossed a relatively large mountain. Even from this distance, I could still hear the bells ringing through the air, the towers blazing with fire as they signaled an enemy attack and called for more troops.

Part of me hoped the woman who saved me managed to escape too. I wanted to trust her, but it was hard to believe anyone could slip out of that place, even with power like hers.

All I had left of her was the small round object resting in my palm, something I hadn't even had the time to properly examine yet. It pulsed faintly against my skin, almost warm, almost alive.

In a way, I felt both happy and guilty.

Time began to drip like water melting from a glacier, slow and steady, stretching across my long flight. Even the sun had started to sink behind the horizon, painting the sky in fading gold that eased my nerves just a little.

I crossed several towns and countless fields where villagers worked themselves half to death for nothing more than a handful of wheat, something small enough to barely make dinner. Some of them noticed me passing overhead. The moment their eyes caught my silhouette, their faces twisted with fear, even though I didn't touch them, didn't even approach their homes.

It made me understand even more clearly how unwelcome I was in these lands.

But where else was I supposed to go?

There were only two paths from Ashvale: the Demon Lands, or the Holy Empire. Ashvale sat right in the middle like a miserable buffer zone, a place owned by nobody and hated by everyone.

If I went back to the demon continent with my current strength, I would fall right back under Lyssandra's control. Even being hunted across these holy lands was a better fate than becoming her puppet again.

Maybe, just maybe, I could flee to the far edges of the world. The lands beyond the empires, where monsters roamed freely and no kingdom claimed authority. There was also the Shadowlands in the far north, home of the undead. They were the only race that never submitted to either humans or demons. They lived free, unbound by the chains of this world.

But even there… I doubted I would fit in.

Still, the idea of exploring it all sent a strange thrill through me.

And far, far to the east lay the lands of giants. But unless I somehow found a ship powerful enough to carry me across the endless Black Ocean, I could forget about reaching that place with wings alone.

Yet even with all these places floating through my mind, none of them felt like a home. Not a single one. I kept flying, letting the wind cool the heat in my skin, letting the mountains and plains pass beneath me, but the hollow feeling inside my chest didn't fade. It only settled deeper, like it finally understood that no matter where I went, I would always be an outsider in this world.

A part of me hated that truth. Another part had grown used to it.

The sky darkened little by little, turning from gold to crimson, then to that quiet shade of purple that always felt like the world was holding its breath. My wings grew heavier with each flap, but I refused to stop. I had someone waiting for me. Beelzebub. Elira. I had responsibilities now, bonds I didn't expect to form, yet I couldn't abandon them.

Somewhere beyond these plains, beyond these frightened villages and towering mountains, lay the only path I could choose for myself. Even if it led straight into more danger… it was still my choice.

And for the first time in days, that thought made my chest feel warm.

Soon, the days blurred into weeks, and weeks into a month. I flew when my strength allowed it, rested when my wings refused to lift me anymore, drank from rivers and slept in trees like some wandering bird. My ankle still ached from the damn arrow, my ribs felt like cracked stone, and my clothes had suffered so much that calling them clothes was generous at this point.

But that warm pull kept guiding me west, softly, patiently, as if a tiny creature was tapping at the inside of my soul, saying:

"This way. Hurry up."

One evening, when the sun dipped low and painted the horizon orange, I finally saw it. A tiny figure shot into the sky in a bright streak, wobbling like a drunk star.

Then it rushed straight at me.

Before I could even brace myself, something small, warm, and fluffy slammed into my chest and wrapped its little limbs around me like a living plush toy.

"Beelzebub…?"

His tiny claws dug into my torn shirt, wings fluttering like they could never decide if he wanted to scold me or cry. His little body trembled against mine, and for the first time in a long while, the tightness in my chest eased. I held him closer without thinking, feeling a warmth spread through me that no sun could match.

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